by Kerry Tombs
‘Nevertheless, Crabb, at this stage we must appreciate Mr Midwinter’s caution. We have not yet proven that Robertson and the gentleman who called here are indeed both the same man,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Thank you, Inspector. If we establish that they are indeed the same man, then I would be bound to see that the dead man’s instructions are carried out.’
‘But Mr Montacute is dead,’ protested Crabb.
‘That is so, Constable, but Mr Maurice Montacute is now the senior partner, and as such we cannot open the envelope unless he is present,’ said Midwinter, giving Crabb a stern look. ‘My instructions in this case were made quite clear to me – the envelope was to be given to the senior partner of the bank, and to no one else.’
‘Of course, Mr Midwinter, we appreciate your predicament. It would not contravene your ethical code, however, if I was to just examine the outside of the packet?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No, I suppose that would be in order, Inspector,’ replied the solicitor, handing the large brown envelope to Ravenscroft.
‘I wonder if you would mind if I took it over to the window? The light is better there,’ requested Ravenscroft.
‘I see no problem in that.’
Ravenscroft walked across to the window and held the package up to the light. He turned it over two or three times in his hands as a bewildered Crabb looked on. ‘I see there are two initials written in the corner: A and V. You have no idea what these letters mean, Mr Midwinter?’
‘I’m afraid not, Inspector. My client offered no inclination as to their origin.’
‘Perhaps the package was originally owned by someone with the initials A.V.?’ suggested Crabb, trying to sound helpful.
‘Or the papers in this envelope relate to someone whose name is A.V.?’ said Ravenscroft, crossing back to the solicitor. ‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter. I would secure the envelope again in your safe.’
‘I will indeed, Inspector.’
Ravenscroft regained his seat and waited for the solicitor to lock the papers back inside his safe and resume his place behind his desk.
‘Mr Midwinter, I have no doubt that the man Robertson was indeed the stranger who called upon you on Christmas Eve, but I also acknowledge your caution in this matter given that you would be unable to give a positive identification of the deceased due to his decayed condition. I have recently returned from London, where I made enquiries regarding the man Robertson. I learnt that he was employed as a coachman in the service of Sir James Stanhope. I also learnt that he had left the capital suddenly on the morning of Christmas Eve, taking a large packet with him. As yet, I have been unable to discover why the gentleman chose to come to our town or why he should have selected yourself as the custodian of such a package – but I do believe that he was anxious that the contents of the envelope should not fall into the wrong hands. I also believe that Robertson was killed because his assailant believed the envelope was still upon his person, and wanted to take possession of it.’
‘Dear me, this is all rather serious and mysterious,’ said Midwinter, looking perplexed and adjusting his spectacles.
‘A serious matter indeed, Mr Midwinter. Since my return from London, I have had the distinct impression that my every move has been observed. Yesterday evening my constable and I thought we detected someone following us in the wood near Mr Catherwood’s residence, and this morning I am sure that someone unknown to us was watching the burial of Nathaniel Montacute. On both occasions when we sought to apprehend the person, he proved too quick for us. When we entered this room today, I was anxious to look out of your window. Before we visited you here today, opposite your premises, on the other side of the street, I observed an old beggar slumped on the pavement, although I am sure if you looked now you would find him gone.’
‘This is terrible, Inspector,’ said the solicitor, breaking into Ravenscroft’s narrative.
‘You think this beggar is following us in the hope that we can lead him to the missing packet?’ suggested Crabb, looking up anxiously.
‘I do indeed.’
‘But you took the envelope over to the window, where he would—’ began Crabb.
‘Exactly! As soon as you told us about the packet, Mr Midwinter, the idea took root in my mind that we might set a little trap for our murderer,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Inspector,’ said Midwinter, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘By going over to the window on the pretext of obtaining more light with which to examine the packet, I was able to show the beggar that we were in possession of the very documents he had been searching for. We will also have ensured that he has seen the package being replaced within your safe.’
‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed the solicitor.
‘Now that he knows that you are in possession of the documents, I have no doubt that Robertson’s killer will attempt to break into your premises tonight in the hope of being able to retrieve the papers from your safe.’
‘What are we to do?’ asked the worried solicitor.
‘Mr Midwinter, is there a back entrance to your premises?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Why, yes, there is a small kitchen and storeroom at the back of the property, which leads directly out into the courtyard.’
‘Excellent. Perhaps you would be kind enough to show us this yard before we leave and furnish us with a key. Constable Crabb and I will then leave by the front entrance in the normal way. You would then oblige us by continuing with your usual work. I have no doubt that our killer will be watching our every move. You should lock up your premises at your usual time and return home, Mr Midwinter. Shortly afterwards my constable and I will let ourselves in the back way, and with your permission will lie in wait for our man to make his move. I trust that you would not object if we were to make use of your office for the evening?’
‘Well, no, I suppose that would be in order – anything I can do to assist you in the apprehension of this man.’
‘Good. Don’t worry, Mr Midwinter, we will see that your safe and its contents remain untouched. Now, if you would be so kind as to show us the rear entrance to your rooms, Constable Crabb and I will leave you to continue with your work. Before the day is out, we will have our killer under arrest! Of that I am sure.’
The town clock struck the hour of eleven.
‘I wish this fellow would hurry up and show himself,’ said Crabb irritably, stretching out his legs in the darkness of Midwinter’s office.
‘I do not think we will have much longer to wait. The town seems almost at sleep,’ replied Ravenscroft, looking towards the corner of the window to where a solitary shimmer of light could be seen on the wet pavement lower down the street.
‘I wish old Midwinter had stoked up his fire before he left. It’s decidedly chilly in here,’ continued Crabb, drawing his coat closer around him and breathing on his cold hands in an attempt to bring back some warmth into his limbs.
‘The flames would have created too much light for our purpose. It is important that we remain still and quiet here in the dark so that our murderer believes that the office is empty, and is reassured in his resolution.’
‘Don’t see why we could not have opened the envelope, then we could have found out what all this is about.’
‘We have to respect Mr Midwinter’s position. He is under a legal and moral obligation to see that his client’s wishes are fulfilled, even if he believes that his client is deceased. Robertson was clearly running away from someone whom he believed was anxious to steal the contents of his envelope, which now lies in Midwinter’s safe. I still don’t see why the coachman came to Ledbury, and why he decided to leave the envelope with Midwinter of all people?’ said Ravenscroft, thrusting his hands once more into the pockets of his overcoat.
‘Why not just take it to Montacute?’
‘That was only his last resort. Robertson gave Midwinter instructions that the package should only be taken to the banker should he himself fail to return
by 1 May. Clearly he hoped to return some time before that date and recover the envelope.’
‘It’s all a mystery to me, sir.’
‘I hope that things will become a little clearer once we have caught our man and taken the envelope to Maurice Montacute to open. Perhaps we might then also learn why the old banker was poisoned, and what part his death plays in all this affair.’
‘Which way in do you think our intruder will use, sir?’
‘The front entrance faces directly on to the street, and although there appears to be no one about, there is always the chance that he would be observed. No, I think he will break in through the back door. The yard there leads off a dark alleyway. I doubt that anyone would see him come in that way.’
‘Just wish he would get on with it,’ muttered Crabb, watching his warm breath drifting up towards the ceiling through the cold air.
‘Here, Tom, take a sip of this to keep you warm,’ said Ravenscroft, passing over a small metal flask in the dark.
‘Bless you, sir,’ said Crabb, gratefully accepting the offering.
‘Shush! I think I heard something.’
‘What, sir?’
‘A door! I think I heard the sound of a door being forced,’ whispered Ravenscroft. ‘Keep absolutely still, Crabb, until I give the word.’
The two men stood in silence as Ravenscroft strained to hear the almost inaudible sound of approaching footsteps drawing nearer towards the room. The only thing he could see in the darkness was the dim outline of his constable.
As the footsteps appeared to draw closer, he was aware of the rapid beating of his heart. His chest began to tighten and he fought to suppress the beginning of an irritable cough which threatened to break the silence.
Slowly the old oak door opened, inch by inch, creaking as it did so.
A tall, dark figure emerged into the room. Ravenscroft strained to catch a glimpse of the intruder but could see nothing of the man’s face underneath the hat that was pulled down low, obscuring his features. The man stood on the threshold of the office, then paused for a moment before crossing over to the window. Confident that there was no one in the street outside, he began to make his way across the room.
Ravenscroft watched as the intruder knelt before the safe and began to force open the lock.
‘Now, Tom. Grab him!’ shouted Ravenscroft, rushing towards the intruder.
‘I’ve got him, sir!’ replied Crabb.
In his haste to assist his constable, Ravenscroft collided with a chair in the dark of the room and fell to the floor. When he looked up he saw the outlines of Crabb and another figure locked in combat. ‘Keep hold of him, Tom!’ yelled Ravenscroft, attempting to get to his feet.
Suddenly a shot rang out in the darkened room.
Then Ravenscroft felt himself being violently thrust up against the desk as the blackened figure darted quickly past him and out of the room. He struggled quickly to his feet and called out, ‘Tom! Tom! Where the devil are you? Are you all right?’
But there was no reply from his constable.
CHAPTER NINE
MALVERN WELLS AND LEDBURY, 7 JANUARY 1889
Shortly after eleven o’clock on the morning following the dramatic events at Midwinter’s offices, Ravenscroft made his slow way along Westminster Road in the area known as Malvern Wells, situated some seven or eight miles from the town of Ledbury. Pausing for a while to steady his breathing after the climb up on to the upper road, the detective shaded his eyes from the bright winter sun that shone down on the white fields that stretched out from the easterly range of the hills. The overnight fall of snow and the resulting early morning frost had made the roads treacherous, and Ravenscroft had abandoned his cab down on the Wells Road, giving instructions to the cabman that he was to return and collect him within one hour. Now, as he stood looking out at the snowy landscape, at the stillness and quiet of the scene, feelings of despair and loneliness seemed to overwhelm him. Apprehending Robertson’s killer and being able to solve the murder of Nathaniel Montacute had all been within his grasp. Today he and Crabb should have had the man safely behind bars. The mystery would have been solved. The case put to rest. But in his haste he had tripped over that damn chair, and their intruder had escaped in the ensuing struggle. Now he was no further forward with his investigations than he had been a few days previously. The killer was out there somewhere, and Ravenscroft still had no idea who he was and where he could be found. He was more than aware, however, that he had been negligent in his duty. He should have made better precautions to see that the man had been secured. Worst of all, he had let Crabb down.
The envelope now seemed the only way forward. The intruder had risked everything in a desperate attempt to retrieve the package. At least he had not been successful in his endeavour. The envelope still lay within the solicitor’s safe, and Ravenscroft had posted two of his men within Midwinter’s office to deter any future raid, before he had left earlier that morning. At least he had been able to convince the old solicitor that the contents of the envelope should be revealed as soon as possible and had urged him to make an appointment with Maurice Montacute at the bank so that they might all open the package together – but even here, he had been frustrated, for he had learnt that the banker had left the town on the early London train and would not be returning until the following day.
Reluctantly, he continued his steady progress along the road, the noise of his boots bearing down on the crisp snow being the only sound to accompany him. After passing by several buildings, he opened the gate of a small white-painted cottage and paused for a brief moment before bringing his hand down on the front door.
‘Oh, Mr Ravenscroft, you best come in out of the cold,’ said a young rosy-cheeked woman, opening the door.
‘Thank you, Jennie. How is Tom this morning?’ he said, stepping into the hallway.
‘Is that you, sir?’ called a voice from the inner room. Ravenscroft handed his coat and hat to the woman, relieved to hear the sound of his constable’s familiar tones.
‘Do please go in,’ said Jennie.
Ravenscroft walked into the inner room. A blazing fire in the hearth welcomed him. Crabb, wearing night attire under a large dressing gown, and sporting a bandage secured round the top part of his head, was seated in an old chair before the fire.
‘My dear Tom, you do not know how pleased I am to see you again this morning,’ said Ravenscroft, eagerly shaking his constable’s hand. ‘For one dreadful moment last night, I thought that blaggard had killed you!’
‘Take more than a stray bullet to see me off, sir. We Crabbs are made of sterner stuff.’
‘And how are you feeling this morning?’ asked Ravenscroft, accepting the chair that Crabb’s wife offered to him.
‘Head feels a bit sore sir, but other than a slight headache, doctor says I should be fine in a day or so.’
‘You had a lucky escape, Tom. Another inch and the result could have been entirely different. I’m so sorry, Tom. I should have had him but in my haste I fell over that damned chair.’
‘Not your fault, sir. It was very dark in that room.’
‘Nevertheless, I feel responsible. I should have realized the chair was there. I didn’t know the fellow would come armed. He was evidently quite desperate to recover those papers. I don’t suppose you got a look at him at all?’ asked Ravenscroft, stretching out his hands towards the fire and rubbing them together.
‘I’m afraid not, sir. It was so dark in there and his face was partially covered by his hat. I would say he was fairly tall and of thin stature, probably around forty years or so.’
‘I didn’t catch much of a look at him, but I am inclined to agree with you, Tom.’
‘There was something though, sir. Although the villain did not seem like any of our suspects in this case, he did remind me of someone.’
‘Go on Tom,’ said Ravenscroft eagerly.
‘Well, sir, there was just something about the fellow which kind of reminded me of someone we have e
ncountered in the past – but I’m afraid I can’t for the life of me remember who.’
‘Don’t worry, Tom. It may come back to you,’ said Ravenscroft, leaning forward and patting Crabb on the shoulder. ‘I have no doubt that the intruder was the same man we encountered in the wood near Catherwood’s place and the man we saw at Montacute’s funeral. He seems a very slippery customer, as well as being a master of disguise. I have instructed the men in both Ledbury and Malvern to keep a sharp lookout for anyone of his description or anyone acting suspiciously, but I would not be surprised if he has gone to ground. We are evidently dealing with a very dangerous and clever individual.’
‘All the more reason to see what is inside that envelope,’ suggested Crabb.
‘Indeed, Tom. Unfortunately Maurice Montacute is in London until tomorrow, and Midwinter, quite correctly, won’t open the packet until he returns, so I’m afraid we will have to wait for a day or so more before the envelope yields up its secrets.’
‘What will we do now, sir?’
‘You, Tom, will do nothing but rest in front of this warm fire, for the next two days at least. I will not allow you back on duty until the doctor says you are well enough to resume work.’
‘I feel fine now, sir,’ protested Crabb, attempting to move from his seat.
‘That’s as may be, but you have had a very nasty shock and come within an inch of your life. Tell him, Jennie, that he is to stay indoors.’
‘I’ve done that already, Mr Ravenscroft. I have done everything within my power to get him to sit in that chair but he keeps saying he must be about his duty,’ said Jennie Crabb, shaking her head.
‘Constable Crabb, I am ordering you to at least obey your wife, even if you will not accept the advice of a colleague. You should listen to your wife. Wives always know what is best for us, even if we are not prepared to acknowledge such a fact.’
‘Very well, sir,’ replied Crabb somewhat reluctantly.
‘Good,’ said Ravenscroft, rising from his chair.
‘You will take a drink with us, sir, before you leave?’ enquired Jennie.
